


it's going to be this time, definitely

by juurensha



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Birthday Party, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8989018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juurensha/pseuds/juurensha
Summary: In which Dick is sure this is the year that they will manage to throw the perfect surprise birthday party for Alfred. Sure there’s been terrible baking hazards, decoration mishaps, gift malfunctions, and villains crashing the party before, but this is the year, he can feel it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just felt like writing fluffy batfam fic, hope you enjoy!

Alfred’s birthday would be on Tuesday. 

Alfred’s birthday would be on Tuesday, and this year Dick was going to throw the perfect surprise party for the man who had always been there for every single one of them.

That said, as Babs reminded him when he had declared it to her, his track record wasn’t so great. 

“Didn’t you nearly set the kitchen on fire the first time you tried?” she asked, crossing her arms and arching one eyebrow up. 

“Hey, I was ten!” he protested, sitting on top of one of the few tables in the clock tower not piled with computers, weaponry, or other various electronics, “I’d never made a cake before!”

“Uh huh,” Babs said wryly, swiveling back to her many glowing screens, “And the other five times after that?”

“Making cakes is hard,” he complains, “Besides, it’s not like you can talk; you helped me make three of the ones that—weren’t quite right.”

“Guilty,” Babs raised her hand and nodded.

“Besides, this is the year, I can feel it!” he continued eagerly.

“You say that every year,” Babs replied with a roll of her eyes, taking off her glasses to polish them.

“So you’re in?” he asks with a grin.

She sighs, “How can I say no to that face—but either you’re buying the cake, or you’re getting someone who can actually cook to help you.”

“Done,” he said, sticking out his hand for Babs to firmly shake, “Help me send out the invites?”

She laughed, “Waaaaay ahead of you there, boy-wonder,” she said, turning her screen so he could see the elegantly designed e-vite being sent over Oracle’s network to the rest of the bat-family. 

So, step one completed with no issues. 

Of course, step one was always going to be the easy step. 

Step two on the other hand, step two was kind of hard. 

“Come oooooon Jay,” he pleaded, chasing after said step two across a rooftop, “It’s Alfred! You don’t want to disappoint Alfred!”

“Get Tim to help you!” Jason yelled over his shoulder as he leaped onto the next roof. 

Dick neatly summersaulted next to Jason and tsked, “You and I both know Timmy is good at a lot of things, but cooking is definitely not one of them.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you asked me to help you make a cake?” Jason demanded, glaring at him. 

“Okay, come on, mixing up salt and sugar is not that hard of a mistake!” Dick protested, “And it won’t happen this time!”

“That’s what you said _last_ time,” Jason complained, and somehow Dick could tell that he was rolling his eyes underneath that hood, “Besides, I haven’t made a cake in a long time.”

“Never too late to start again! Plus, this is the year, I guarantee it!” Dick beamed, holding out his arms. 

Jason stared dubiously at Dick’s outstretched arms until he sadly put them down again, “….fine. Because it’s Alfred.”

“Thanks Jay!” Dick said, managing to pounce on him for a hug before the Red Hood managed to struggle away, “And remember, it’s got to be—”

“Chocolate, I know,” Jason interrupted, swatting Dick’s hands away, “How many candles do I buy?”

Dick shrugged, leaning back, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Jason mock-gasped, “The favorite son _doesn’t know?”_

“Everyone’s Alfred’s favorite, and I’m not even sure Bruce knows,” Dick replied with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand.

Jason snorted, “I’ll just buy a ton of candles then.”

Dick grinned, “It’s going to be great! So come by—”

“Tuesday, of course I know that,” Jason said, with a dismissive wave as he fired off a line to jump to the next rooftop, “And a gift, obviously.”

So step two was complete with a minimum of fuss (Jason could bluster all he liked, but Alfred had given him far too many cookies and patched up too many scrapes over the years for Jason to be anything but respectful toward the old butler). 

Step three was fairly straightforward, since Tim, Cass, and Stephanie were more than happy to come up with decorations. The one problem was that none of the three really agreed on a primary color scheme, but at least red, black, and purple went together relatively well (his suggestion of adding some green and yellow to be a little more festive had been shouted down, unfairly he thought. He hadn’t even tried to put in blue and black. He’d sneak in some green and yellow balloons, he’s sure Alfred will appreciate it).

“How old is Alfred anyway?” Tim asked as Cass and Stephanie eagerly scrolled through various party decorations online. 

Dick raised an eyebrow, “ _You_ don’t know?”

“Does Bruce even know?” Tim shot back, before turning to Cass, “You have any idea?”

Cass furrowed her brow, “…either seventy-six or actually immortal,” she answered solemnly. 

“My money is on secretly immortal!” Stephanie called out before clicking and pointing at the screen, “Ooo, look, they have a happy birthday banner with bats!”

“It’s Gotham, what do you expect,” Tim said with a sigh although he also leaned over to look. 

“Buying it,” Cass said emphatically, moving Stephanie’s mouse and clicking it. 

“I’ll leave you kids to it,” Dick said with a grin and a wave, “If you need any help hanging things up—”

“ _No,”_ all three teenagers yelled, glaring at him.

“Remember what happened last time?” Tim demanded.

Stephanie shuddered, “I don’t know how long it took to get that stuff out of my hair…”

“Okay, that was _one_ time,” Dick protested, “How was I supposed to know Zatanna’s enchanted balloons would spontaneously turn into gloop?”

Cass shook her head, “No magic balloons called Snoollab this time.”

“Fine, fine, drive yourselves batty hanging everything up yourselves then,” Dick grinned, “You get it? _Batty?”_

Tim rolled his eyes, Stephanie groaned, and even Cass looked put out. 

Kids these days. Didn’t appreciate a good bat-pun at all.

So step three finished with a minimum of fuss even if the color scheme was going to be bizarre and have an unfortunate lack of bat puns. Step four was more difficult but at least it was easier than step two (but then again, most things were). 

“I don’t see why we’re doing this, Grayson,” Damian complained, crossing his arms. 

“Oh come on, you don’t want Tim and them to have all the say in the decorations, do you?” Dick asked, proffering the balloon dog toward the boy.

Damian continued to scowl at the neon orange balloon creation, “If this is supposed to be an improvement, I hate to see what Drake will come up with,” he replied, not budging or taking the balloon dog. 

“Come on Damian, it’s for Alfred! You don’t want to disappoint Alfred do you?” Dick cajoled, pulling a sad face, and setting the balloon dog on Damian’s head, “Alfred baked _you_ a birthday cake when it was _your_ birthday.”

Damian’s scowl wavered slightly but he still shook his head to make the balloon dog come tumbling down, “A cake is an acceptable if frivolous birthday tradition; animals made out of neon plastic most certainly are _not.”_

“Well if you don’t want balloon animals, at the very least we still have to get Alfred a present,” Dick said, crossing his arms as well. 

Damian made a face but dipped his head, “Very well; as long as it does not involve your garish sense of fashion or taste.”

Dick held a hand up to his chest in mock-hurt, “Damian, you _wound_ me!”

Damian gave him a very unimpressed look until he sighed and began to tuck away the balloons (hiding a small smile. In the end, step four wasn’t that difficult).

“Why has father let you take control of something as important as Alfred’s birthday?” Damian asked, “It is almost as bizarre as you letting Todd make the cake given what has happened in the past.”

“ _Hey,_ we’ve had some good birthday parties for Alfred!” Dick protested, “So they didn’t turn out perfectly—”

“Father says one time Two-Face showed up,” Damian said accusingly.

“Okay, to be fair, that was when he was trying to be more Harvey Dent then, and I was trying to be nice when I invited him; how was I supposed to know Poison Ivy would decide to crash the party?”

Damian gave him a look so unimpressed that Dick had a sudden flash of Bruce’s displeased face during that party (it was impressive how getting cake flung into his face actually made Bruce’s face _more_ scary, not less). 

“Anyway,” Dick continued, shaking his head to dispel that fearsome image, “This is the year, I can feel it!”

Damian couldn’t possibly looked any more unimpressed, but he simply shook his head and asked seriously, “Knives would be an appropriate gift for Alfred, correct?”

“We’re talking kitchen knives here right?” Dick quickly interjected (Damian was a lot better, but with him it always helped to check).

“Of course,” Damian sniffed, “Alfred deserves the best kitchen knives; a dagger would not lend to even cuts in food.”

“Then yes,” Dick holds out a few rolls of red and yellow wrapping paper, “Want to help me wrap?”

Damian gave the paper and the pile of presents (a Shakespeare First Folio from Bruce, already carefully wrapped in very dark grey tissue paper, tickets to a winery tour from Dick, a tablet programmed with tracking for anyone Alfred would like to find from Babs, a bunch of secret recipes Jason had somehow obtained throughout his travels, opera tickets from Tim, a careful selection of teas from Cass, a boxed collection of classic Granada Sherlock Holmes from Stephanie, an awfully sparkly tie pin that he was pretty sure had appeared courtesy of Catwoman, a book of pie recipes handed down in the Kent family from Clark, a set of tea towels from Kon, and the aforementioned knives from Damian) a disdainful look, but still picked up a roll and sat down with Dick and began to try and help him wrap them all. 

(If they all looked a bit lumpy and had far too much tape all over them, well, it was the thought that counted, right? Besides, he had managed to get a few pictures of Damian with his brow cutely furrowed and tongue sticking out as he tried to tuck a particularly stubborn piece of wrapping paper over the boxes, and a few of Damian squawking and trying to grab the phone out of his hand once he had noticed Dick taking pictures)

Step five is as easy as asking Bruce to use the mansion.

“Don’t let it be like that time with the pigeons though,” Bruce warned him. 

“Okay, that was _one time_ when I was twelve!” Dick protested, waving his hands around, “And it only took a day or two to clean everything!”

“ _Alfred_ had to help you clean it up,” Bruce scolded, “Not a very good birthday present.”

Dick held his hands up, “Well, _this_ year is going to be the year! No cake mishaps, no criminals crashing the party, no exploding decorations, no pigeons!”

“Glad to hear it,” Bruce said dryly, “Extra patrol duty for everyone for the next week so we can try to have no distractions during the party.”

Dick fake groans and hides a grin. Extra patrols were annoying, but sleepless nights were the least they could give to Alfred. 

Step six is the hardest step of all: surprising Alfred.

The main problem is that Alfred is expecting them; after all they did try to surprise him with a party every year, to no avail. And it didn’t matter that none of them knew exactly how old Alfred was: in terms of always knowing what was happening and never being surprised, no one could outsmart Alfred. 

Still, this year Dick had a plan.

“This is a terrible plan,” Jason hissed, giving Dick a scowl that really put him in mind of Damian.

“It’s a great plan!” Dick insisted, tugging on Krypto’s leash in an attempt to get the superdog back on track. 

“It’s a terrible plan,” Tim interjected, taking a dog treat out of a bag with weird alien writing and waving it in front of a drooling Krypto, “You’re lucky Kon has him this month.”

“Supes would have totally gone along with it!” Dick protested, patting Krypto’s head as the dog happily wagged his tail and munched on the snack. 

“You realize that if superdog over there messes up the kitchen or breaks anything, Alfred is going to be _disappointed_ in us?” Jason demanded. 

All three of them shuddered. Alfred’s disappointed look should be illegal. Fear toxin, smile-x, Ivy’s poisons, and the entire range of approved League of Assassin’s various methods, were all old hat, but despite growing up with Alfred, nothing was scarier than Alfred’s slow shake of the head. 

Cass sighed and grabbed Krypto’s leash from Dick, “I’m going now before Alfred sees all of you,” she said, running forward as Kryto happily bounded across to the kitchen. 

Despite Alfred’s indeterminable age, he could put any League of Assassin member to shame in terms of unflappability, and Cass running in with a floating dog was no exception.

“Did Master Drake decide to take care of Krypto for the week, Miss Cain?” Alfred asked polishing a wineglass, unperturbed by Krypto bounding around him.

Cass nodded, tugging gently on Krypto’s leash to get him to heel and grin doggishly at Alfred. 

“I hope Master Drake isn’t foisting his responsibilities onto you though, Miss Cain?” Alfred asked, raising one fearsome eyebrow. 

“No,” Cass replied before Tim could have a heart attack, “I wanted to walk him. Could I have some special dog treats, please?”

Alfred smiled, “Of course, Miss Cain.”

Dick, Jason, and Tim waited until not only the butler, girl, and dog were out of sight but that they could no longer hear Krypto’s exuberant panting before quickly crowding into the kitchen and beginning to set up. 

“He’s gone?” Stephanie asked, popping out of the ceiling, with Damian following close behind. 

“Not for long, so let’s make it fast,” Jason replied, carefully placing the elaborately frosted chocolate cake at the center of the table. 

“Where’s a speedster when you need them,” Tim complained, jumping up onto a chair and helping Stephanie pin the banner onto the wall. 

“Wally is off with Artemis on a vacation,” Dick sighed, handing Damian presents to pile strategically around the table.

“A well-deserved vacation,” Barbara commented, wheeling in and starting to set up the speakers and music. 

“And Bart has mandatory training with Barry that he’s been skipping out on for weeks, so he’s screwed,” Tim finished, stepping back to make sure the letters he pinned up were straight.

“Probably for the best,” Stephanie commented, jumping down from her perch above the door, “Speedsters make such a mess. Remember that time two years ago? What do you think?”

“Personally, I’d say you need more sparkly things,” Selina said, making everyone jump as she sidled in through a window, “But Alfred’s an understated guy, so this looks good.”

Stephanie beamed, “Thanks!”

“Hello everyone, anything I can do to help?” Clark asked as he floated in from the window Selina had left open, “That cake looks amazing!”

Dick grinned as Jason mumbled, “It’s alright,” and scratched the back of his neck, trying to hide his pleased expression.

“Can you hear if Alfred is coming back?” Tim asked, putting up the last of the streamers. 

Clark cocked his head, “Sounds like Krypto is keeping them both busy,” he said dryly, “Where is Kon?”

“He’ll be by soon,” Tim said, “He’s just picking up cups and plates.”

Clark nodded, “That’s good. So Dick, if a giant robot attacks this time, I’m going to get Alfred out first—”

“That was _one_ time,” Dick cut in, pointing a finger at Clark, “Once! And we even salvaged the cake from that time!”

“Yes, but do you remember that time with the kryptonite present?” Selina asked, examining her nails.

Clark shuddered, “ _I_ definitely do.”

“That’s why you keep your civilian and masked identities separate; have them interviewing each other, and next thing you know, people are trying to sneak you stuff that might kill the other,” Bruce lectured, materializing in the doorway.

“Did Alfred even get a present that year?” Selina asked. 

“Alfred got lots of presents!” Dick insisted. 

“After three days of us running around frantically trying to replace them,” Jason muttered under his breath before Tim kicked him.

“And I appreciated all of them,” a familiar gentle voice said from the hallway. 

They all whirled around to see Alfred standing in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, “Good afternoon everyone.”

“How did you not notice him?” Jason demanded, staring at Clark. 

“Don’t blame Mr. Kent; he has a lot on his mind,” Alfred cut in, walking over to the table, “I must say, this is a splendid cake.”

Jason didn’t say anything, but Dick saw a flush of pink on his ears and couldn’t resist slinging an arm around his shoulders, “Jason made it!”

“Then I am sure it will taste as marvelous as it looks,” Alfred said, smiling at Jason. 

“Won’t be as good as yours—but happy birthday,” Jason replied gruffly, throwing Dick’s arm off of his shoulders. 

“Happy birthday!” Stephanie chimed in, tugging on a string to belatedly set off the red, purple, and black streamers (and some green and yellow balloons that Dick would claim ignorance of their origins of later), “Where’s Cass?”

There was a bark as Krypto bounded in, dragging Cass behind him. Upon seeing Clark, the superdog promptly leapt onto him, happily slobbering all over him. Cass managed to let go of the leash right before Krypto jumped, and bent to catch her breath. 

“Sorry! Krypto sensed Superman, and then Alfred disappeared—” she panted before noticing Alfred, “Oh!”

“My apologies, Miss Cain,” Alfred said, giving a short bow, “I thought I should go investigate what brought Mister Kent to the Manor today.”

“So wait, did we actually manage to surprise you this time?” Dick interjected eagerly.

Alfred smiled benevolently, eyes twinkling, “If you would like to think so Master Grayson, be my guest.”

“That means no,” Tim sighed.

“Next year, boy-wonder,” Babs said, shoving Dick lightly.

Dick pouted, but produced the balloon animals, “Damian made these, Alfred!”

“I _did not,_ Grayson!” Damian shouted indignantly, “I wrapped the presents!” he said, pointing at the stack of gifts on the other table. 

“They are all lovely,” Alfred said, sitting at the table as Jason began to light the candles, “Thank you all for all of this.”

“Happy Birthday Alfred!” everyone chorused, and began singing (even Bruce). 

So it wasn’t quite perfect since it wasn’t a surprise, but as Alfred blew out the candles, Damian attempted to smash cake into Tim’s face only to catch Kon as he drifted through the window, Stephanie catching the moment on camera, Babs promptly tweeting it, Cass hauling Damian up like a small angry cat, Jay pointing and laughing, Selina taking selfies with everyone and everything while admiring the silver, Bruce shaking his head with the barest twitch of his mouth betraying amusement, and Clark helping bring cake to everyone, Dick thought it was the best they had yet. The cake was delicious, the gifts were lovely, Alfred was happy, the decorations were nice and hadn’t exploded, no villains had managed to somehow crash the party—

A gleaming robot appeared in the window, only to be met by one escrima stick and six different batarangs. It sputtered and fell down as Clark shook his head. 

“Luthor again,” he sighed, placing his plate down, “Sorry Alfred, I will go deal with this and then come back?”

“Take your time Mister Kent, and do be safe,” Alfred replied primly, getting a second slice of cake, “And tell Mr. Luthor that he owes Master Bruce about ten heirloom tomato plants and fifteen heirloom rose bushes. Preferably Cherokee Purple and Peace varieties respectively.”

“Will do,” Clark said with a grin as he flew out of the window. 

Well, almost no villains anyway.

(Next year would be the year, he could _feel_ it)


End file.
